Out of Africa
by Cardinal Robbins
Summary: SVU AU John Munch and Sarah Zelman discover someone else in bed with them. Will John's feathered friend make Sarah fly the coop? Pure fluff from angsty Cardinal Robbins, inspired by a 'throwaway' line by Munch in an ep of SVU.


"Out of Africa"

by Cardinal Robbins

Disclaimer: Regrettably, John Munch isn't mine. Fortunately, Sarah Zelman is.

Author's Note: This is total fluff, folks. Complete. Utter. Fluffapalooza.

In an episode of "SVU," Munch commented about a particular New York newspaper, saying, "I wouldn't line my birdcage with it." That 'throw-away' line stayed with me, hence my finally writing this ultra-fluffy one-shot. Please don't try to piece it into the Munch/Zelman AU fanon, because it's not going to fit. Maybe it's a few weeks after "November Rain," but don't hold me to it. (In case you're curious, John's bird's name is pronounced 'Bah-new-EEE.' Some of the phrases are things a friend's African parrot actually says, whenever I visit. Paki is amazing and an absolutely shameless, banana-loving flirt!)

John Munch wearily opened his eyes, wondering what time it was as the first moments of dawn delivered light through his bedroom window. Last night had been satisfying in more ways than he dared admit, the earliest hour of the morning leaving him caressing Sarah Zelman as he drifted off into deep sleep.

He reached over to brush back an errant strand of tousled hair from her face, as she gradually awoke. "Good morning," he whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

"Hey, handsome." She smiled, looking into his dark eyes as his lips met hers. She briefly closed her eyes for a moment, settling into the kiss, opening her eyes once more as he gently pulled away.

Suddenly, he saw her expression turn to nervous surprise as her gaze settled on the comforter spread across them both.

"John," she began, keeping her tone even, "why is there someone else in bed with us?" Sarah wasn't sure if she should slowly try to exit gracefully, or simply stay put and hope it was some sort of feathered apparition.

He cast a sidelong glance and there sat an exotic bird, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. "You little escape artist," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Something you forgot to mention, sweetie?" Sarah stared, momentarily transfixed by its proximity. "Should I maneuver my way out of the room? I don't want to be on the bad side of that beak."

Munch grinned, wondering how best to explain. "No, you're okay. Don't be afraid, Sarah. He won't bite unless you startle him." He pushed back the comforter and held out his hand. "He's slipped his cage bolt again," he said with a chuckle. "Haven't you, Banui?"

"Is that Russian?" Zelman asked, curious. "Wait…it sounds vaguely Slavic."

"It's Romanian," he corrected, "but that would have been your next guess."

"Romanian. I forgot about that side of your family, my mistake," she admitted. She was intrigued; she'd pegged him as a cat fancier, not an avian enthusiast. It oddly made sense, since someone of his intellect would most deeply appreciate one of God's smartest creatures. "Banui is the Romanian word for…what? Bird?"

"Money," he replied. "This little guy cost me a small fortune, since he was hand-raised by a well-known breeder in Atlanta. His parents came straight out of Africa." He waggled a finger at the Grey, grinning as he bobbed his head. "You should hear them butcher his name at the vet's, when they call him 'banooey,'" John said wryly. "He knows the difference, too. He won't respond to anything but the proper pronunciation."

The bird deliberately walked over to John and climbed on to his outstretched finger. "Banana," he said, sounding amazingly like his human friend.

"What do you say first, feather-boy?" he asked, bouncing the bird ever so slightly. He cast a quick glance at Sarah, relieved she was grinning. "Say the magic word and I'll get you some fruit."

"Please?" he said, a little less clearly, but still making himself understood. "Banana." He extended his wings and flapped, to emphasize it was time for breakfast.

Sarah carefully propped herself up on one elbow and watched the bird, obviously delighted. "He is an African Grey, isn't he? You didn't tell me you had a pet," she said, smiling. "He's very handsome."

John rolled over on his back, keeping the bird steady as he moved. "You didn't ask," he joked. "Besides, I didn't know how you'd react. My intelligent little pal makes Fin's skin crawl. Didn't want to risk your having the same reaction, which is why I usually covered his palace before you arrived." He stroked Banui's feathers and looked him over, checking as he did each day to ensure the parrot was in good health. "Yes, he's a Grey. Fin calls him a 'can-opener with wings.'"

They laughed, especially when Banui tipped his head and squawked once more.

"I love birds, especially parrots," Sarah asserted. "I used to have a parakeet who said some cute things – 'pretty boy' was his favorite." She longed to hold her finger out, to see if Banui would come to her, but knew better. "I'd love to pet him, but they're pretty much one-person birds. Maybe I should admire him from afar." The Grey watched her inquisitively, hopping a bit on John's finger, unsure if he should take a winged leap toward Zelman.

"He's a Timneh, which is a lot less neurotic than the other varieties, and they're not as prone to bite as other types," Munch explained. "I think the two of you should become better acquainted over breakfast." He slowly got up, balancing while the bird clutched two fingers and remained steady. "C'mon you beaky Houdini, let's get your morning routine underway," he said lightly. "At least we don't have to rush today."

Sarah rose and padded after him into the kitchen, busying herself with making a pot of Earl Gray tea in the coffeemaker. She hadn't noticed the very spacious birdcage at one end of the kitchen, but had to admit it wasn't exactly something she was looking for when John brought her to his place. "Was he serious? Does he want some banana?"

"Dead serious. It's his favorite food in the entire world," John said, settling the bird on the back of a kitchen chair. He reached up and took a banana from the top of the refrigerator, peeling it and cutting small rounds. "You'll need these," he offered, reaching into a drawer and pulling out heavy suede gloves. "Training gloves, in case he gets a little rambunctious."

"Me? I get to feed him?" She took the gloves and pulled them on, wiggling her fingers. "You think he'll eat for me?" Sarah was buoyed by the possibility Banui would let her feed him breakfast.

"He saw us together; he knows you're part of the flock, so to speak. Take the banana slice like this," he instructed, having her take it between thumb and forefinger, "and offer him an edge. He'll take a bite first, then he'll either reach up with a claw to take it or he'll grab it with his beak." He smiled as she giggled. "Ready?"

"Sure…" Sarah moved carefully toward the parrot, her gloved hand outstretched. "Good morning, Banui," she said softly. "Here's your banana." She held her breath as he craned his neck, moving his head forward to snatch a quick bite. Unmoving, she waited for him to take more.

John stepped behind her, his hand on her shoulder. "Banui, do you like it?" he asked, hoping he'd give his customary reply.

"I like it," the bird declared with authority, calmly finishing the first bite.

"That's uncanny," Sarah whispered. "He's amazing. I think I love him already, 'can opener' and all." She held out the slice of fruit once more, as Banui flapped his wings and landed on her free hand. He ducked his head, in an effort to get more fruit and she gave him the remainder of the slice. The Timneh took the piece in his beak and ate, standing on her hand as if they'd known each other for a while.

"He flaps his wings when he's pleased with things," John explained. "He did that with my mom once, while he was at her place for a short stay."

"So I shouldn't be freaked out?" she asked, laughing. "Look at him eat… He seems pretty happy right now."

"'Happy'? He's thrilled. You should be honored. Aside from my mom, he's not all that fond of women," John said, a bit sadly. "B.L. hated him and vice-versa. You know who I mean, don't you?" Billie Lou, the fourth ex-Mrs. Munch, was not an animal lover in the slightest.

Sarah shook her head, understanding to whom he referred. Now without fruit to hold, she carefully moved her hand toward the bird, hoping to gently stroke its feathers.

"I'm glad you're an animal person," John said, kissing the back of her head. He moved to the coffeemaker and poured them both a cup of tea, stirring Sweet N' Low into hers.

"Don't tell me, he can't even stand to hear B.L.'s name." She watched her new friend finish the last bit of banana as she turned slowly toward Munch. "Did she mistreat him? Please tell me she didn't, or I'll have to hunt her down and kill her." She accepted a piece of mango from a divided container of cut fruits and vegetables, smiling as Banui grasped it in his claw.

"Worse. She ignored him," he said, obviously still holding a grudge. "He revels in attention, as you can see. She resented the amount of time I spent with him, even though it wasn't all that much between working and being head barkeep at the Waterfront."

"Make the Yid work!" the parrot said, squawking loudly when he heard the bar's name.

Zelman gasped, shocked at hearing such a derogatory term. "That's reprehensible! Where did he learn that?" Sarah snapped, giving them both a look.

"That's his reaction to the W-word. Sorry," he apologized. "I used to have to spend my days off scrubbing floors, while – you know – went off to blow my paychecks. I'd sneak him into the bar, and he'd hear me kvetching while I worked. Of all the things I've been able to purge from his vocabulary, unfortunately the ethnic slur remains."

"You should never have referred to yourself that way," Sarah chastised gently.

"My self-esteem was at an all-time low back then," he admitted sadly. "But that's in the past." Munch felt his face redden, strengthening his resolve to get Banui to drop the errant phrase. "I'll see if I can get him to swap it for something suitable."

Sarah shot him a 'that's more like it' look, as she eased the bird over to the back of a chair. "I'm surprised he doesn't cuss a blue streak, all things considered."

"All Things Considered!" Banui repeated, startling them both.

"Congratulations, you triggered one of his catch-phrases," John explained. "It's his favorite show on National Public Radio." He took a sip of his tea and continued, "I leave NPR on sometimes, to give him enough conversation through the day. Or I'll leave it on jazz, but then sometimes he'll mimic a few bars of what he likes."

"How come that's bad?" Sarah giggled at the thought.

"He'll wake up in the middle of the night and decide to sing jazz guitar riffs until he goes back to sleep," John explained, searching the refrigerator. "When I'm up late, working on a case file, it makes me want to let him stay up. He needs his sleep more than I need mine." He double-checked both crisper drawers and sighed. "We're in serious trouble."

"Why? Are you out of eggs again?" Sarah asked. "We can always go to my place for breakfast," she offered, thinking fondly of whole grain pancakes.

"That's not the issue. It's worse than that," John asserted. "I'm out of c-o-r-n, and this is not good." He put some of the cut fresh veggies into a small bowl, offering it to the parrot and waiting. "Maybe we'll get lucky," he almost whispered.

When Banui discovered there was no fresh corn in his daily mix of fruits and veggies, he let out an eardrum-piercing shriek. John quickly reached for him, balancing him on his hand, then walked briskly into the living room. "C'mon, don't be cranky. I'll get you more corn later today at the market," he coaxed. The parrot stretched out his wings and looked like he was soaring throughout the room.

"Did he scream because he wanted extra attention?" Sarah asked, curious. She had to admit, it was quite a sight, Munch walking in a brisk circle while holding the bird at shoulder height as he 'flew.'

"That, and he was genuinely upset because I forgot to get him corn," John replied, bringing Banui back into the kitchen with a swoop. "He's not usually a 'screamer,' like a lot of Greys tend to be. I use 'diversion therapy' to put a stop to the shrieking immediately. Flying him around helps get his mind redirected; he quiets down right away."

Munch was right. Once the bird was settled in the kitchen again, he was calmly watching them both. "Apple," he said, remarkably clear in tone. "Please," he drawled afterward, bobbing his head toward the refrigerator. John fished out a slice of red apple, which the bird accepted with surprising delicacy. Banui wanted more fruit before he'd start on his morning vegetables.

"Does he ever fly around the place on his own?" Sarah wondered aloud, having seen his compact yet effective wingspan.

"I take him to the vet to have his wings clipped, which limits his aerial stunts in the unfriendly skies and helps him stay out of trouble," John explained. "Sometimes, I'll clip him, depending on his mood. When he's cranky, his doctor gets to cope with him."

"You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din," she replied, laughing. "There's no way I'd want to tackle that job."

"It's not as difficult as it sounds," he assured her. "He can still fly. Sometimes he even wants to play Hide and Seek in the closet." Munch laughed and shook his head, all too aware Banui usually wanted to play right before he had to leave for work.

"Sarah, I was thinking…since we have the day off, I hoped maybe we'd go out for breakfast," he offered, "then we could hit up the Farmer's Market on the way back." He mentally ticked off a list of fresh foods he's need for his buddy, pleased the local gathering had gradually switched to all-organic grocers. "If that's okay …" He looked at Zelman through the top of his lenses, hoping she didn't mind an after-breakfast detour.

"Sounds great to me. Do you ever take Banui with you?" She'd seen almost everything between working and living in Los Angeles, Chicago, Jacksonville and New York; people with exotic pets usually wanted to show them off, or couldn't stand to be without them.

"Never. I don't even admit to too many people that I have him," John admitted. "He'd be stolen, not only because he's valuable, but because of his wide vocabulary. You're one of a handful of people who know about him." He offered Banui a red flame grape, which he grasped in a claw.

"Your secret's safe with me, John, don't worry," she replied, making a mental note not to tell anyone about the handsome bird. "Who takes care of him when we're working around the clock – or stuck at the sixteenth for a few days at a time?" A case would come in from time to time, which Munch referred to as a 'red ball,' necessitating spending anywhere from twenty-four to seventy-two hours straight at the Precinct, with no chance of getting free to attend to pets or even loved ones.

"When that happens, I call my upstairs neighbor who has a key," Munch explained. "Jeffrey is a veterinary student in his first year of residency, specializing in exotics. He probably takes even better care of Banui than I do." He held out a shelled nut to the bird, but didn't give it to him right away. "Who's your doctor, bird-buddy?"

"Doctor Jeffrey," he responded, then mimicked a Samsung cell-phone ring. "Hello!"

John laughed and gave him the reward. "You're too much, Banui." Finally the parrot started sifting through his vegetable mix, picking out his favorites to eat first.

After having a cup of tea and sharing the morning edition of the Times, Zelman stood and wondered if she should give John time to leisurely complete his and his parrot's morning routine. "I should probably head back to my place and shower," Sarah mentioned, giving him the option of some time alone to attend to his pet.

John got up, too, hoping she wouldn't leave so soon. "You don't have to go. Stay and shower here," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Unless…" Munch took in a deep breath and wondered how to explain the next facet of Banui's morning ritual.

"Something wrong?" She pulled away and looked at him curiously.

"Parrots have to be bathed every day," he began. "I take my feathered friend into the bathroom, run him a tepid basin of water and he takes a bath while I shower. The humidity is also good for him." He watched her face carefully, wondering at what point she'd decide he was crazy and make a hasty exit.

"He gets clean, so do we," she quipped. "What's to worry? Unless he decides to join us."

"We tried the shower and he's not fond of it. I think the noise and the water pressure bother him," John replied. "He won't fly in; he'll be having too much fun with his bath and his toys." Toys. Now she's certainly going to head for the door, he thought wryly.

"Does he have a rubber duck?" she asked, a grin on her face. "This, I've got to see."

"He has a fish, among other favorites. Play is very important to his health, as you'll see when I take the drape off of his perch," John said, smiling. "It's a veritable Toys R Us for the enviable avian. So is his cage. Now you know where my money goes."

Sarah looked at him for a long moment before kissing him deeply.

"Was that for anything in particular?" he asked, wondering why she chose the moment.

"For being such an animal person," she replied. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Munch left Zelman to finish her tea, while he cleaned around his pet's perch and changed the newspapers covering the floor of his cage. It was a simple process for the diligent; John kept Banui's environs so clean, no one could tell he had a bird.

Afterward, they showered while the parrot played happily in a basin of water, bobbing and playing with his floating toys, while uttering an occasional phrase or singing a few bars from one of John's favorite records. Once he'd bathed, he set about laboriously grooming his feathers while his human friends got dressed and prepared to leave. He paused and mimicked a noise that made them both laugh.

"Is that what I think it is?" Sarah asked, trying to quell her laughter.

"Only if you think it's an electric shaver," Munch replied, never ceasing to be amazed at the sounds his parrot would imitate. "He hears it every workday morning. It's faster than shaving in the shower."

"That's a total hoot, John." As Sarah tied her shoes, she heard a low whistle. "Yes?" she asked the bird, who was sitting on the dresser.

"Casey, please staaaay," Banui said, his voice carrying a lilting quality.

John cringed and let out a long breath. "Ouch. My secrets laid bare by my little friend," he said, feeling his face redden. "She – "

"Hey, it's okay," Sarah replied. "That's your past, you shouldn't be ashamed of it or anything. Was he okay with her? She would have been part of the flock, too, right?"

"She never made it into the 'birds of a feather' elite, no. He had her a little on edge, especially when he'd manage to slip out of his cage when we were…on the sofa." John had fervently wished Casey Novak would bond somehow with his parrot, but she preferred pets that tended to be less intrusive, like cats. "He might be reacting to your hair, since I've noticed he has a thing for redheads."

"Right… I'm sure he's the only one, too," Sarah said teasingly. "Couldn't be because he takes after you, could it?" She winked and they both laughed. "He's so cute, John… What's not to love about the little guy?"

After a breakfast of granola, yogurt and fruit at the local coffee shop, they perused the neighborhood Farmer's Market. They bought corn for Banui, among his other favorite fruits and vegetables, and Sarah picked up mixed greens for a salad that night. She noticed flax seed in John's basket, a quizzical look on her face. "For you or your feathered friend?"

"A vital ingredient in his daily mix of seeds," he replied. "Want to help me prep his food for the week?"

"Sure. I can slice and dice with the best of 'em," she assured him. "Is there anything here I could buy for him, as a treat?" She saw John had the produce situation well under control, but there had to be something more.

"He's calcium-dependent. You could buy him some cheese," John offered. "He's crazy about the organic Colby-Jack they sometimes have." Munch noticed heavy clouds had moved in, obscuring the sunlight they'd enjoyed earlier. "He'll love you if you ply him with cheese."

"I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity," she replied, moving in the direction of the dairy vendor.

Less than an hour later, they were side by side in John's small kitchen, slicing produce and mixing feed for the admittedly spoiled Timneh. A small pot of kidney beans simmered on the stove, also for the bird. Munch wouldn't hear of using canned food for him, because of the sodium content. It didn't take long to prepare everything in advance, especially with two of them making the task easier.

Banui instinctively knew the flurry of activity was good, as he flew into the kitchen; he half-flew half-hopped to the seat of a chair and climbed up to the back of it. "Pleeeeeeaaase," he said, watching them carefully.

"Here you are, little guy – some cheese." Sarah didn't bother with the training gloves, instead holding the piece close to the parrot's foot. As she'd hoped, he took it in a claw and held it to his mouth, taking a bite.

"What do you say?" John coached. "Come on, you know…"

"Thank you," the bird said with authority.

"You're welcome," she replied, amazed at how much John had taught him.

Once they were finished prepping Banui's weekly menu, Sarah thought perhaps it was time to leave and return to her place. "I should go, since I've got laundry to do and a couple case files to review." Before she could act on her intentions, rain lashed against the kitchen window and the heavy clouds poured forth more rain than they'd seen in weeks.

"C'mon, Sarah, please stay," John insisted. "Laundry can wait. I can take your mind off those case files, too." He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply. "Even workaholics like us deserve a day off," he said softly. "How about it? At least until it stops raining…" Munch had overhead the weather forecast while they ate breakfast. It was supposed to rain steadily at least another twenty-four hours.

"Since you put it that way," she replied, "it's a little hard to resist."

"What I have in mind will be, too," he quipped, taking her hand and leading her back to the bedroom.

Almost three months later, a night off found John and Sarah on the sofa, a Lou Reed record playing on his turntable. They watched, amused, as Banui deliberately walked over and ratcheted himself up to the arm of the couch.

"I should have grabbed the training gloves, but I forgot he was out of his cage," John said. "I think he wants you this time." He watched his feathered buddy, wondering how Sarah would react to talons grabbing her finger.

"I'm game," she decided, holding out her hand. "Banui, come to me?" She almost held her breath as he flapped his wings and landed on her index finger, balancing tentatively. "There you are… Good boy." She wanted to cringe as his claws gripped her tightly, but instead she forced herself to relax, genuinely enjoying holding the bird.

He craned his neck and looked at her. "Gooood boyyyy," he mimicked. John reached over and stroked his feathers gently.

The bird looked at Munch and perfectly imitated the musical ring of his Nokia cell-phone. As Munch and Zelman laughed, Banui said, "Love you, Sarah," causing them both to pause.

"I love you, Banui," she replied. "Ohhhhh, John," Sarah said softly, her face pinking, "you taught him that. You're shameless, using this cute little guy as leverage."

"I had nothing to do with it, I swear," Munch vowed. "He understands the concept of affection and he feels comfortable around you now. You saw, he came straight to you." John knew it would be difficult to get the Timneh back into his cage, now that he'd developed an attraction to Sarah. He either wouldn't want to be caged, or he'd spend the night awake, imitating who knew how many sounds and snippets of conversation.

"He's so adorable," she cooed. "Aren't you, Banui?" She wished she had some grapes or a piece of mango for him, but he seemed content to sit and be worshipped.

"I'm the murder police!" he squawked, flapping his wings regally. He imitated a telephone and added, "Homicide," as his human companions laughed.

"Come on, you," John said, getting up to take his buddy to his perch. "Stay here tonight and you won't have to be in your cage. Okay?" He watched carefully; sure enough, Banui nodded his head in agreement. "Good night, little pal."

"Night-night!" called the parrot, amusing himself with one of his many toys. John laughed softly at the sight of him, bobbing back and forth as he played.

A couple hours later, John and Sarah were still cuddling on the couch, with Bobby Darin's dulcet voice in the background.

"Love you, Sarah," John whispered, nuzzling her neck as he caressed her.

"You? Or Banui?" she joked softly, kissing him gently, her arms around him.

"Both of us," he asserted, "but I love you more than he does."

"You and your crazy bird buddy… I love you both," she said, punctuating her statement with another kiss. "Maybe you just a little more, but not by much."

"I can tell," John said, "you're going to throw me over for my winged pal."

"You just never know," Sarah joked, as they entwined. John was satisfied he'd finally found someone who could relate to his bird as much as he did. It made loving her that much easier, after all of his more complicated relationships.

Meanwhile, on his elaborate perch surrounded by toys, Banui the African Grey ruffled his feathers and settled into sleep.


End file.
